Shakespeare Co
by Asgardian Honor Society
Summary: Also known as Shakespeare and Co. & Shakespeare and His Company. It's not that serious, Tony. Honestly, what have the Wheaties ever done to you? StevexTony


**_Shakespeare and Co._**

an _Avengers _fanfiction

Steve**_x_**Tony

"What a piece of _crap." _Tony flings the object away from himself like it's on fire and Steve catches it mid-flight as it zooms past his face.

"What is this?" Steve lowers his hand to eye level and examines the object. It's a necklace - a tacky, ruby red, primarily plastic necklace.

"Poop personified. Even more than poop already is. Seriously, people get better stuff for Secret freaking Santa." Tony scoffs as he knocks aside a cereal box that had previously been sitting in front of him as the breakfast bar-Wheaties, Steve notes.

"You're ranting Tony," Steve points out with a chuckle and and affectionately amused look and his billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist boyfriend.

"No, Steve, lover. See, I'm _venting _and I'm _venting _because I am disappointed. The _one day _I decide to have an actual breakfast I end up with what _has to be _the breakfast cereal bearing the most _striking _resemblance to _human excrement." _And then Steve chokes on the strawberry he had just bit into, then wondered how exactly Stark Mansion has come to possess strawberries in its fridge, Tony hadn't been kidding when he said he didn't eat breakfast. The man practically bled java.

"They aren't _that_ bad." This is spoken around a mouthful of the tangy-sweet berry. Unsurprisingly Tony thunders on. After all, you can't sop a freight train as it pounds down the tracks.

"And you know what, I should have known. I should have _freaking known _because _Wheaties? Wheaties, **really? **_With a goddamn name like that, I can't _believe _I didn't see it sooner. Honestly, excuse me, that's what I get for taking a chance on cereal with a name that conjures images of the prairie in the throes of childbirth and thinking it could ever be sufficient to break my fast."

"No that's what you get for ever straying from your true love." Steve quips, choking back hysterical peals of laughter because, _oh my god, Tony on his rants-_

That shit was SNL material to go down in legend. And, yes, he knew what SNL was, pop culture lessons every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday at 4:00, thanks.

You know, when crap like megalomaniac Viktor von Doom wannabes weren't attempting to take New York by storm, emphasis on _attempting._

"Coffee's gonna be the one that holds you in its arms and whipers sweet nothings in your ear as draw your last breath. Infidelity never pays, you know this, Tony."

Tony stares thoughtfully at Steve {or at a point in the general vicinity of his left cheekbone, there are times when he honestly can't tell} and begins to nod.

"You know what, Stevie, you're right. You are _so right, _I _never _should have left coffee!" He punctuates _never _with a thump of his fist on the island. He then rushes over to the state-of-the-art coffee brewer that sits primly on a black marble pedestal (just...)

What happens much later after that is lost to Steve for the most part due to his collapse to the ground in an impressive display of hysterical giggles because, _what is his life, _Tony is now crooning to the coffee maker and this is just to much, even for a super soldier.

Steve can't. He just can't. The definition of Lost All Ability to Can.

Somehow Tony tears himself away from waxing poetic to the coffee machine (read: love of his life) and has insinuated his body in between Steve's legs where the latter has hopped up onto the counter (for shame), nursing a tall Stark Industries mug of "sexy java", as he has now dubbed it.

"So glad to see you and your lost lover united at last," Steve teases and as Tony huffs indignantly and pouts like the giant manchild Steve knows he is he squeezes his legs tighter around Tony and presses a big, loving, strawberry flavoured kiss to the apple of Tony's cheek and marvels.

He just marvels.

* * *

_*~+A/N**_**_So reviews are my poison and I would love to know what you made of the ridiculous premise of this story which qualifies it, basically, as crack. It was a creative writing prompt in which our instructor gave us a bag of random little items and basically said, "Have at it? Create a story using the items in this bag." In the bag of the group behind me there were items that intrigued me more so than those in my won, particularly the tacky plastic red necklace so I just picked it up and stuck with it.


End file.
